


Pilot Thorin Corgishield, reporting for duty

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: One's species did not determine fitness to serve in the New Republic Starfighter Command – but sometimes pedigree can play a pivotal role.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Pilot Thorin Corgishield, reporting for duty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rthstewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts).



> Yub yub and Bow wow, Commander!

“ _Welsh Corgis have historically been used as herding dogs, specifically for cattle. They are of the type of herding dog referred to as "heelers", meaning that they would nip at the heels of the larger animals to keep them on the move._ ” — Wikipedia entry

* * *

Thorin Corgishield was not the shortest pilot in the New Republic. That honor belonged to an Ewok named Kettch, who had blazed a trail for a new generation of pilots like Thorin. (True, Kettch had been a fabrication — but the legendary Ewok had also been proof of concept, as the Thorin had been quick to point out when submitting his application to Commander Wes Janson. General Antilles himself had agreed, although Thorin never knew what the general had meant by “pigeons coming home to roost,” since both Ewoks and Corgis were mammalian species.)

In any case, Thorin had all of two centimeters on Kettch, and he was proud of both of them.

“Wingman,” greeted the hulking Trandoshan who shared his quarters. Granted, Komo took the larger share — the lizard’s share, as he called it — but Thorin didn’t mind. Corgis were space-efficient.

And _he_ never hit his head in the cockpit.

“Catch any squirrels today?” Apparently Komo’s habitual speciesist insults sounded rude to humans, but Thorin took them in stride. Trandoshans so rarely consorted with anyone warmblooded; culture clash was only to be expected. Besides, Thorin was starting to suspect it was just his wingman’s way of bonding.

“Why, are you hungry?” he barked back.

Komo gaped at him — a wide, toothy grin that seemed to confirm Thorin’s hypothesis.

Before the larger pilot could come up with a suitable rejoinder, both their datapads pinged: MISSION BRIEFING 0600.

“Before breakfast,” mourned Komo.

Thorin set his alarm for 0500. Early-morning briefings meant treats, and he wanted to claim his share before Komo showed up to slurp up the leftovers.

* * *

“Morning, pilots!” Janson strode in, claimed two doughnuts and put them on his podium. Thorin already had a spare tucked in his flightsuit for later; if Komo complained about his stomach too much, he would hand it over cheerfully, and then watch while the maintenance crew harangued his wingman over crumbs in the cockpit.

It was the little things that made life worth living. (Corgi maxim number seven.)

“We are being temporarily reassigned from patrol duty,” announced Janson as soon as the last pilot had filed in. (He should have waited another minute, noted Thorin. The new arrival was still staring sadly at the empty tray of treats. Thorin decided pranks could wait another day; he would sneak his spare doughnut to the forlorn pilot after briefing.)

“Our new mission is... unorthodox.”

Thorin’s ears perked up. Anything _Janson_ found out of the ordinary must be truly bizarre.

“A pod of purrgils has been wrecking havoc in the shipping lanes, and Command wants us to fix it.”

Komo’s mouth dropped open with a shower of crumbs. “We can’t blow up purrgils!” he objected. Thorin felt a rush of affection for his wingmate; most people assumed Trandoshans were bloodthirsty, but Komo was actually a gentle soul. That is, when no one was shooting at him.

Janson looked exasperated. “Of course we won’t. Not every mission involves blowing something up.”

“Name one,” barked Thorin to general laughter.

Janson opened his mouth, paused a long moment and shook his head. “Fair point,” he acknowledged. “So this will be a first for you, pilots: find a way to fix it _without_ blowing anything up — including but not limited to purrgils.”

Komo looked to Thorin for ideas, as he usually did. He wasn’t a slow thinker like many people assumed based on his species and speech patterns, but creativity outside a cockpit wasn’t the Trandoshan’s forte.

Fortunately, it was Thorin’s. He already had an idea. An elegant, efficient solution. And it would be _fun._ He could feel his vestigial tail trying to wag. Oh _boy_ , this was going to be fun.

Thorin raised his paw.

“You have an idea already, Pilot Corgishield?” Janson looked amused.

“We take a lesson from my people, Commander. Corgi maxim number two: no flock of problems is too large to be herded.” Thorin couldn’t help grinning. Finally, a chance for the New Republic’s second shortest pilot to prove his mettle.

He straightened to his full height, proud of every centimeter. “Put more simply, sir, we nip at their heels to bring them to heel.”


End file.
